


Darkening

by Fairleigh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Mind Control, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sith Sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: Darth Sidious uses Sith sorcery to make Obi-Wan rape Anakin. Will it destroy the bond of love and trust between master and apprentice?





	Darkening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salazarastark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarastark/gifts).



_The fool Jedi has touched it. He should have known better than to attempt to handle a Sith artifact unprotected, and now, he’s opened himself up to the insidious influence of the dark side of the Force._

_Darth Sidious smiles as the fell energies of his sorcery are unleashed. This should break the bond between his future apprentice and that troublesome Kenobi once and for all._

~*~*~

Obi-Wan Kenobi was kissing him, and they weren’t polite, fraternal kisses. They were hot and heavy and laden with desire.

Yes, _desire_. Desire for him. For _him! For Anakin Skywalker!!_

He wasn’t quite sure, looking back on it, how it had all started — something to do with that weird, pyramid-shaped holocron they’d found in the temple ruins, maybe? — but now that it _had_ started, there was no sign of it stopping any time soon.

Anakin moaned as Obi-Wan tightened their embrace and ground their bodies together. He could feel Obi-Wan’s erection against the inside of his thigh. His beautiful master! Was! Hard! For him! Anakin’s knees were beginning to buckle; at this rate, they were moments from tumbling in a messy, tangled heap of limbs and robes down to the durasteel sheet decking of their shuttle, where there wasn’t enough room for even one man to lie flat. So Anakin decided to compromise, half-stumbling, half-falling backwards into the auxiliary control console.

The angle wasn’t really right for reclining, let alone sitting, and the sharp jut of the manual override lever was digging into his hip, but at least it did provide Anakin with a place to brace himself so that he could take more of Obi-Wan’s weight.

Which was good, because boy oh boy was Obi-Wan in a hurry, an incredible hurry! Anakin had never seen the usually decorous Obi-Wan act with such heedless desperation. He’d already gotten his own cock out, in fact, and a faint line of concentration appeared between his brows as he yanked clumsily at Anakin’s pants.

The fabric tore as Anakin was exposed to Obi-Wan’s inspection. His pupils were hugely dilated, and he licked his lips, a seemingly unconscious reaction. He looked … _hungry_. Predatory. Anakin trembled beneath the intensity of this scrutiny, and he felt lightheaded, suddenly, whether from the adrenaline rush or all the blood leaving his brain to fill his cock, he wasn’t certain.

Abruptly, Anakin was filled with doubt. What they were doing, it wasn’t, it couldn’t possibly be, uh … normal. And the Force felt … strange. Sluggish, almost menacing. Was this the dark side …? But that wasn’t possible! Obi-Wan wasn’t being influenced by the dark side, was he?

“Hey, wait a minute — are you actually sure …?” Anakin croaked.

“Hush,” Obi-Wan replied as his fingers curled around Anakin’s erection.

Just as abruptly, Anakin forgot his doubts. This was the man Anakin loved most in the galaxy! How could he not want this?! Obi-Wan’s touch was searing, electric, and his back arched, hips canting upwards, a wordless plea for more, more, _more_.

Obi-Wan obliged with firm, purposeful strokes — so different, and so much more intense, having another person touch him — and Anakin had never achieved orgasm this fast before in his life. He ground his teeth as his muscles locked and a flood of semen was wrung out of him in long, plentiful bursts.

“M-master!” Anakin panted. He felt stunned but also faintly disappointed. That had been unexpectedly one-sided.

A faint smile curled itself around Obi-Wan’s lips, like he could read the direction of Anakin’s thoughts; he began coating his own cock, as yet unsatisfied, with Anakin’s semen. So thick and creamy. Obi-Wan rolled back his foreskin to reveal the glans. Anakin’s mouth watered. It looked delicious, a warm, rosy fruit made of flesh and blood.

“My turn,” Obi-Wan murmured, both declaration and promise.

Anakin reached out, eager, wanting to touch in return, to taste, to give pleasure — only to discover that he couldn’t. His back was pinned to the console; he was paralyzed by some unknown Force. Then, before he had a chance to fully process this development, his legs were being forced apart, his hole exposed, and Obi-Wan was pushing fiercely, remorselessly, into him.

That hurt. Oh, that hurt! Anakin’s muscles were still tense from his recent orgasm, and Obi-Wan, insanely well-endowed, as it turned out, was not being gentle. A burning, searing slide, a stretch, another, more awful stretch, the horrible feeling that something inside of him had been torn, and finally Obi-Wan was all the way in, buried, balls deep.

“Please …” Anakin whimpered.

Anakin didn’t know what he was asking for, but Obi-Wan took it as permission. His hips pulled back, dragging nearly the whole length of him back out, and paused. But Anakin wasn’t ready when he slammed back in, their flesh meeting with a loud, ringing slap, the pain as sharp as a knife. And then he did it again, and again, and again. And yet again. The pain did not abate.

“Please …” Anakin whimpered again. “Don’t …”

Obi-Wan ignored him.

Anakin’s fingers curled into claws and dug into Obi-Wan’s chest. He could move this much, he realized, and instinctively, he was trying to push Obi-Wan off or, failing that, moderate the pace and fury of his thrusts. He’d wanted lovemaking, not this brute, animalistic rutting. Alas, it didn’t work. He couldn’t stop this, and when he tried to summon his power, the Force only seemed to flow away from him like water through Tatooine’s desert sand.

With a savage twist of his hips, Obi-Wan came. His cock swelled and jerked as he ejaculated. Anakin shuddered at the knowledge that he was being claimed at last. Yet this seemed to give Obi-Wan no true release — his thrusts hardly faltered at all — and soon enough he had assumed an even more brutal pace, obscene squelching added to the desperate panting, the sounds of flesh on flesh as he pounded Anakin into the console with unflagging passionate fury.

“No, Master, _stop_ …” Anakin pleaded. He tossed his head uselessly back and forth. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and tears welled up into the corners of his eyes. In spite of everything, even with the pain, it was starting to feel _wonderful_. He loved his master, and he could even admit to himself that he had wanted it, but he hadn’t wanted it like this. No, no, not like _this_ , never like this …!

Obi-Wan seemed not to hear Anakin, or notice his crying, or his despair, and he fucked them both to a second, wailing, gut-wrenching orgasm. Yet even then, he did not stop, and nothing Anakin could do or say would _make_ him stop. He was tireless, utterly consumed by whatever strange, needy energy drove him, and the more Anakin protested, the more the violent and brutal — and excruciatingly, tortuously pleasurable — the fucking became.

Things began to blur after that. How long did it continue? Minutes? Hours? _Days?!_ Anakin remembered screaming himself hoarse.

Eventually, blessedly, he passed out.

~*~*~

The return to consciousness was gradual. Anakin’s body ached; his hair was tangled; his robes were torn; he was covered in bruises; his belly was sticky; and mingled streaks of semen, sweat, and blood coated the insides of his legs. As for his insides, ugh, best not to go there. He felt, in final analysis, like all the Hutts on Nal Hutta had been using him as their personal seating apparatus.

Anakin stumbled unsteadily to his feet. Obi-Wan was nowhere in sight. “Obi … Wan …?” he croaked.

A soft moan answered him. Anakin followed the sound to its source and found Obi-Wan huddled on the floor in a far corner of the shuttle, legs pulled up against his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, as far from where Anakin had been sprawled as it was possible to get in their little shuttle cockpit.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin and turned his body away, moaning again. He was horribly ashamed. “Oh, Anakin, I’m so sorry, really I am, I don’t know what came over me, what I did was unforgivable…” he babbled. He was weeping, Anakin realized, and that made Anakin start to weep fresh tears as well.

“Master, M-Master!” Anakin said, voice hitched, sobbing, as he knelt beside Obi-Wan. He still loved Obi-Wan more than anything, never mind what Obi-Wan had just done to him, and he was hurting, both physically and spiritually, and he wanted Obi-Wan to comfort him. The Force was with him once more too, it seemed, and the strange, sinister energies he’d felt previously had fled, leaving behind only the wash of Obi-Wan’s harsh grief and regret.

Yes, Obi-Wan loved him. Obi-Wan loved him with all his heart, and for that reason, his heart was breaking. For _him! For Anakin Skywalker!!_

Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s smaller, shuddering form. “I love you, Master! I forgive you! So please hold me! I need you! Please!” Anakin begged. He didn’t understand what had happened to them, and neither at this very moment did he care. He just knew it was over. Besides, he’d take the violent expression of Obi-Wan’s hidden, pent up desire over his rejection, any day. If Obi-Wan loved Anakin, well, Anakin loved him back just as much. Oh, how he loved him! So, so what if love had to hurt sometimes?! He wouldn’t be a Jedi without Obi-Wan!! Obi-Wan was all he had, all that stood between a life of honor and distinction and a life of humiliation and slavery.

Obi-Wan noticed Anakin’s disheveled state, and it made him cry harder, sobs low and rough, like a wounded, broken thing. But he reciprocated the embrace regardless, and Anakin burrowed himself wantonly against the body of the man who had so recently used him, the man who now carded his fingers through Anakin’s tangled hair and caressed his cheeks and kissed away his tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan chanted over and over and over, until the words ceased to have any meaning.

Their bond remained strong. Somehow, it would sustain them.

~*~*~

 _Well, that hadn’t gone quite as Darth Sidious had hoped, but it_ has _taught his future apprentice something important: to associate love with the inevitability of pain and brutal violence._

_Skywalker and Kenobi may have been brought closer by this experience for now, but he is optimistic that, in the long run, this darkening will tear them apart yet._

_He can hardly wait._


End file.
